


Haircut

by Writing-Classic-Rock (writingfanfic)



Category: Mötley Crüe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gum In The Hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 09:46:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14376201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Classic-Rock
Summary: For the prompt: 'Phil Collen from Def Leppard fluff, or more Tommy Lee fluff please?'I went for Tommy Lee. Strap in...





	Haircut

“What  _happened?_ ”

“What do you  _think_  happened? Nikki! Nikki’s a cunt!”

You grin, and Tommy looks up at you, brown eyes like a puppy’s.

“I was asleep…” You nod, and lean in, looking at the wad of gum in his hair. “That fucking asshole. I don’t wanna lose a big chunk of my hair!” You nod, and gently pull at it; he curses. “ _Fucking ow_!”

“I want to try and get as much out as I can,” you say, calmly. Somewhere in the building, Nikki is having a black eye nursed by Mick and Vince, or probably added to, if he’s mouthing off; you don’t care right now. “Okay. Right, that’s it…”

“Don’t cut it out,” Tommy says in terror, and you can’t help but giggle. You’ve never actually heard him sound this scared. “Oh god, don’t cut my hair.”

“Snip snip, Tommy,” you grin, and he jumps up, staring at you.

“I’ll put my head in the goddamn freezer, you are not cutting my fuckin’ hair,” he says, and you roll your eyes.

“No, I’m not. Sit your ass down,” you say, and he does so, watching you like a snake watches a mongoose. “Okay. I’m going to put oil in your hair. It…” You pause for a moment and adjust your language in case you overshoot. “Melts the gum?”

“…for real?” he asks, and you nod. “…okay.” You begin to cover the wad of gum in oil, praying it negates you getting any of Nikki’s saliva on your fingers.  _Ugh_. “That fucking asshole, I am gonna take out his goddamn teeth and put them back in upside down…”

“Yes, yes. Big bad Tommy got attacked by the nasty gum.” You peck his cheek, and he flushes red. “Come on. We’re gonna get it out in five minutes, and you won’t lose any hair.”

“…you’re a goddamn angel,” he mumbles, and you continue rubbing as much as you can in. It’s probably a bad sign when you can safely say ‘cooking oil’ isn’t even in the top ten of ‘worst things your boyfriend has smelled of’, but you don’t say anything, and continue massaging it into his scalp. “…this is so nice.” He leans back against you, purring under his breath.

“I know. You can thank me later.” You keep looking at the clock – as each minutes passes, you feel the gum adhere less and less, and eventually you can slide most of it out of his hair, picking the little bits out. “There. No cutting, no bald patches.”

“I smell like a fryer,” he complains, and you kick him. “I’m grateful, babe! Let’s go for a shower.” He grins at you. “Together.”

“I see how grateful you are,” you grin, and lean down, kissing him. “Okay.”


End file.
